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" Ivanhoe was soon on foot, hastening to mend his fortune 
with the sword.” — Page 98 



IVANHOE 



NEW YORK 
MeLOUGHLIN BROTHERS 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

JUL 19 1906 

^ CoD^rifht Entry 
d Cl. xxc. No. 

/S/2f^ 

COPY B. 


at'' v' 



As the Palmer was being guided to his chamber he was met by the 
waiting maid. — Page 9. 



CHAPTER OXE. 

At the time when King Rich- 
ard, of the Lion Heart, was 
absent from his country, and a 
prisoner in the power of the per- 
fidious and cruel Duke of Aus- 
tria, there lived in England a 
high-born Saxon, named Cedric. 
He was one of the few native princes who still 
continued to occupy the home of his fathers; but, 
like many more of the conquered English people, 
he had felt the tyranny and oppressive insolence 
of the haughty Norman Barons. He was a man 
of great personal strength, possessed of a hasty 
and choleric temper, but he had shrewdly re- 
frained from showing any open hostility to the 
successors of the Conqueror; and so contrived to 

3 



4 


IVANHOE 


maintain his ancient state in his mansion at Roth- 
erwood, while many others in a similar situation 
had been compelled to give up their homes and 
properties to the supporters of the Norman in- 
vader. 

He had an only son, Wilfred by name, with 
whom he had quarreled ; and the young man, find- 
ing himself disinherited, had adopted the profes- 
sion of a champion of the Cross, and sailed away 
to Palestine with the army of the Crusaders. 

One evening, in the autumn of the year, Cedric 
was about to sit down to supper in the old hall at 
Rotherwood, when the blast of a horn was heard 
at his gate. In a few minutes after, a warder an- 
nounced that the Prior Aymer, of Jorvaulx, and 
the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, com- 
mander of the valiant order of Knights Tem- 
plars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality 
and lodging for the night, being on their way to a 
tournament which was to be held not far from 
Ashby-de-la-Zouche. 


IVANHOE 


5 


“Normans both,’’ muttered Cedric; “but they 
are welcome to the hospitality of Rotherwood. 
Admit them.” 

The noble guests were ushered in shortly after, 
accompanied by their attendants, and Cedric bade 
them welcome to his hall. 

When the repast was about to begin, the stew- 
ard, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud : “For- 
bear! Place for the Lady Rowena.” As he 
spoke a side-door at the upper end of the hall 
opened, and Rowena, the fair and stately ward of 
Cedric, followed by four female attendants, en- 
tered the apartment. All stood up to receive her, 
and, replying to their courtesy by a mute gesture 
of salutation, she moved gracefully forward to 
assume her place at the board, while the eyes of 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert seemed to be riveted by 
the striking beauty of her face. 

As the banquet went on, conversation was in- 
terrupted by the entrance of a page, who an- 


6 


IVANHOE 


nounced that there was a stranger at the gate im- 
ploring admittance and hospitality. 

“Admit him,” said Cedric, “be he who or what 
he may.” 

The page retired; and returning shortly after, 
whispered into the ear of his master : 

“It is a Jew, who calls himself Isaac of York.” 

“St. Mary!” said the Abbot, crossing himself, 
“an unbelieving Jew, and admitted into this pres- 
ence!” 

“A dog Jew,” echoed the Templar, “to ap- 
proach a defender of the Holy Sepulchre!” 

“Peace, my worthy guests,” said Cedric; “my 
hospitality must not be bounded by your dislikes. 
Let him have a board and a morsel apart.” 

Introduced with little ceremony, and advanc- 
ing with fear and hesitation, and many a bow of 
deep humility, a tall thin old man, with an aqui- 
line nose and piercing black eyes, approached the 
lower end of the board. Cedric nodded coldly in 
answer to his repeated salutations, and signed to 


IVANHOE 


7 


him to take a place at the lower end of the table, 
where, however, no one offered to make room for 
him. 

A pilgrim, at length, who sat by the chimney, 
took compassion upon him, and resigned his seat, 
saying briefly, “Old man, my garments are dried, 
my hunger is appeased, thou art both wet and 
fasting.” And, so saying, he placed some food 
before the Jew on the small table at which he had 
himself supped, and, without waiting for the old 
man’s thanks, went to the other side of the hall. 

As the feast proceeded, a discussion arose 
amongst the banqueters as to which knights had 
borne them best in Palestine among the cham- 
pions of the Cross. De Bois-Guilbert seemed to 
speak slightingly of the English warriors, while 
giving the place of honour to the Knights pf the 
Temple. 

“The English chivalry was second to none,” 
said the Pilgrim, who had listened to this conver- 
sation with marked impatience. “Second to none. 


8 


IVANHOE 


I say, who ever drew sword in defence of the 
Holy Land. I say, besides, for I saw it, that 
King Richard himself and five of his knights held 
a tournament after the taking of St. John-de- 
Acre, as challengers, and proved themselves su- 
perior to all comers.” 

The swarthy countenance of the Templar grew 
darker with a bitter scowl of rage as he listened to 
these words; but his angry confusion became 
only more marked as the Pilgrim went on to give 
the names of the English knights who had so dis- 
tinguished themselves. He paused as he came to 
the name of the sixth. 

“His name dwells not in my memory,” he said, 
“but he was a young knight of lesser renown and 
lower rank.” 

“Sir Palmer,” said Brian de Bois-Guilbert 
scornfully, “this assumed forgetfulness, after so 
much has been remembered, comes too late to 
serve your purpose. I will myself tell the name 
of the knight before whose lance I fell: it was the 


IVANHOE 


9 


Knight of Ivanhoe ; nor was there one of the six 
that, for his years, had more renown in arms. Yet 
this will I say, and loudly, that, were he in Eng- 
land, I would gladly meet him in this week’s tour- 
nament, mounted and armed as I now am.” 

“If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine I will 
be his surety that he meets you,” replied the 
Palmer. 

Not long after, the grace-cup was served 
round, and the guests, after making deep obeis- 
ance to their landlord and the Lady Rowena, 
arose, and retired with their attendants for the 
night. 

As the Palmer was being guided to his cham- 
ber he was met by the waiting-maid of Rowena, 
who informed him that her mistress desired to 
speak with him. 

A short passage and an ascent of some steps 
led him to the lady’s apartment. 

As the pilgrim entered she ordered her attend- 
ants, excepting only one, to retire. 


10 


IVANHOE 


“Pilgrim,” said the lady, after a moment’s 
pause, during which she seemed uncertain how to 
address him, “you this night mentioned a name — 
I mean the name of Ivanhoe — I would gladly hear 
news of him. Where and in what condition did 
you leave him?” 

“I know little of the Knight of Ivanhoe,” an- 
swered the Palmer with a troubled voice. “He 
hath, I believe, surmounted the persecution of his 
enemies in Palestine, and is on the eve of return- 
ing to England.” 

The Lady Rowena sighed deeply. 

“Would to God,” she then said, “he were here 
safely arrived, and able to bear arms in the ap- 
proaching tourney. Should Athelstane of Con- 
ingsburgh obtain the prize, Ivanhoe is like to hear 
evil tidings when he reaches England.” 

Finding that there was no further information 
to be obtained about the knight, in whose fate she 
seemed to take so deep an interest, she bade her 
maidens to offer the sleeping-cup to the holy 


IVANHOE 


11 


man, and having presented him with a piece of 
gold, wished him good-night. 

As the Palmer was being conducted to his 
room he inquired of his attendant where Isaac the 
Jew was sleeping, and learned that he occupied 
the room next to his own. 

As soon as it was dawn the Pilgrim entered the 
small apartment where the Jew was still asleep. 
Stirring him with his pilgrim’s staff, he told him 
that he should rise without delay, and leave the 
mansion. “When the Templar crossed the hall 
yesternight,” he continued, “I heard him speak to 
his Mussulman slaves in the Saracen language, 
which I well understand, and he charged them to 
watch the journey of the Jew, to seize upon him 
when at a convenient distance from the mansion, 
and to conduct him to the castle of Philip de Mal- 
voisin, or to that of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf.” 

It is impossible to describe the extremity of 
terror which seized upon the Jew at this informa- 
tion. He knew only too well of the relentless 


12 


IVANHOE 


persecution to which his kindred were subjected 
at this period, and how, upon the slightest and 
most unreasonable pretences, their persons and 
their property were exposed to every turn of pop- 
ular fury. 

He rose, accordingly, in haste. 

It was not, however, such an easy matter to 
make their exit from the mansion. Gurth, the 
swineherd, a servant of much importance at that 
time, when appealed to to open the gate, refused 
to let the visitors out at such an unseasonable 
hour. 

“Nevertheless,” said the Pilgrim, “you will 
not, I think, refuse me that favour.” 

So saying, he whispered something in his ear 
in Saxon. Gurth started as if electrified, and 
hastened at once to procure their mules for the 
travellers, and to open the postern gate to let them 
out. 

As the Pilgrim mounted, he reached his hand 
to Gurth, who kissed it with the utmost possible 


IVANHOE 


13 


veneration. The two travellers were soon lost 
under the boughs of the forest path. 

They continued their journey at great speed; 
and the Jew noticed with amazement that the 
Palmer appeared to be familiar with every path 
and outlet of the wood. When they had travelled 
some distance from Rotherwood, and were ap- 
proaching the town of Sheffield, the Jew ex- 
pressed a wish to recompense the Palmer for the 
interest he had taken in his aff airs. 

‘T desire no recompense,” answered his fellow 
traveller. 

“Yet I can tell thee something thou lackest,” 
said Isaac, “and, it may be, supply it too. Thy 
wish even now is for a horse and armour.” 

The Palmer started. 

“What fiend prompted that guess?” said he. 

“Under that Palmer’s gown,” replied the Jew, 
“is hidden a knight’s chain and spurs of gold. I 
saw them as you stooped over my bed this morn- 
ing.” 


14 


IVANHOE 


Without waiting to hear his companion’s reply, 
he wrote some words in Hebrew on a piece of 
paper, and handed it to the Pilgrim, saying : 

‘‘In the town of Leicester all men know the 
rich Jew, Kirjath Jairam of Lombardy; give him 
this scroll, and he will give thee everything that 
can furnish thee forth for the tournament; when 
it is over thou wilt return them safely. But hark 
thee, good youth, thrust thyself not too forward 
in this vain hurly-burly. I speak not for endan- 
gering the steel and coat of armour, but for the 
sake of thine own life and limbs.” 

“Gramercy for thy caution,” said the Palmer, 
smiling; “I will use thy courtesy frankly — and it 
will go hard with me but I will requite it.” 

They then parted, and took different roads for 
the town of Sheffield. 

When the morning of the tournament arrived 
the field of contest at Ashby-de-la-Zouche pre- 
sented a brilliant and romantic scene. On the 
verge of a wood was an extensive meadow, of the 



“We shall meet again, I trust,’* said the defeated champion. — P. 22 


15 






16 


IVANHOE 


finest and most beautiful green turf, surrounded 
on one side by the forest, and fringed on the other 
by straggling oak-trees. The ground, as if fash- 
ioned on purpose for the martial display which 
was intended, sloped gradually down on all sides 
to a level bottom, which was enclosed for the 
lists with strong palisades. At each end of the 
enclosure two heralds were stationed, and a 
strong body of men-at-arms, for maintaining or- 
der and ascertaining the quality of the knights 
who proposed to engage in the contest. 

On a platform beyond the southern entrance 
were pitched five magnificent pavilions, adorned 
with pennons of russet and black — the chosen 
colours of the five knights challengers. That in 
the centre, as the place of honour, had been as- 
signed to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose renown 
in all games of chivalry had occasioned him to be 
adopted as the chief and leader of the challengers. 
Outside the hsts were galleries, spread with tapes- 
try and carpets, for the convenience of the ladies 


IVANHOE 


17 


and nobles who were expected to attend the tour- 
nament. Another gallery raised higher than the 
rest, and opposite to the spot where the shock of 
combat was to take place, was decorated with 
much magnificence, and graced by a sort of 
throne and canopy, on which the royal arms were 
emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen, in rich 
liveries, waited around the place of honour, which 
was designed for Prince John, the brother of the 
absent King, and his attendants. Opposite to this 
royal gallery was another, even more gaily dec- 
orated, reserved as the seat of honour for the 
Queen of Beauty and Love. But who was to fill 
the place on the present occasion no one was pre- 
pared to guess. 

Gradually the galleries became filled with 
knights, nobles and ladies, while the lower space 
was crowded with yeomen and burghers. 

Amongst the latter was Isaac the Jew, richly 
and magnificently dressed, and accompanied by 
his daughter, the beautiful Rebecca, whose ex- 


18 


IVANHOE 


quisite form, shown to advantage by a becoming 
Eastern dress, did not escape the quick eye of the 
Prince himself, as he rode by at the head of his 
numerous and gaily-dressed train. 

As the Prince assumed his throne, he gave sig- 
nal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the 
tournament, which w^ere briefly as follows: 

First: The five challengers were to undertake 
all comers. 

Secondly : Any knight might select any antag- 
onist for combat by toliching his shield. If he did 
so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill 
was made with what were called the arms of 
courtesy, that is, with lances at whose extremity 
a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no 
danger was encountered, save from the shock of 
the horses and riders. But if the shield w^as 
touched with the sharp end of the lance, the 
knights were to fight as in actual battle. 

Thirdly: The knight whom the Prince should 
declare to be the victor was to receive as prize a 


IVANHOE 


19 


war-horse of exquisite beauty and matchless 
strength, and in addition to this reward, he should 
have the peculiar honour of naming the Queen of 
Love and Beauty. 

When the proclamation was made the heralds 
retired, and through the open barriers five 
knights advanced slowly into the arena. Ap- 
proaching the challengers, each touched slightly, 
and with the reverse of his lance, the shield of the 
antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself, 
and then retreated to the extremity of the lists, 
where all remained drawn up in a line. 

At the fiourish of clarions and trumpets they 
started out against each other at full gallop; and 
such was the superior skill or good fortune of 
the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guil- 
bert, Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf rolled on 
the ground. The antagonist of Grantmesnil 
broke his spear ; while the fifth knight alone main- 
tained the honour of his party. 

A second and third party of knights took the 


20 


IVANHOE 


field, and although they had various success, yet, 
upon the whole, the advantage decidedly re- 
mained with the challengers, not one of whom 
lost his seat. 

A fourth combat followed; and here, too, the 
challengers came off victorious. 

. Prince John now began to talk of awarding 
the prize to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had 
proved himself to be the best of the Norman 
knights; but his attention, and that of the other 
spectators, was arrested by the sound of a solitary 
trumpet, which breathed a note of defiance from 
the northern end of the enclosure. 

All eyes were turned to see the new champion, 
and no sooner were the barriers opened than he 
paced into the lists. His suit of armour was 
formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the 
device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled 
up by the roots, with the word “disinherited” in- 
scribed upon it. Riding straight up to Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert, he struck with the sharp end of his 


IVANHOE 


21 


spear the shield of the victorious Norman until 
it rang again. All stood astonished at his pre- 
sumption, but none more than the redoubted 
knight whom he had thus defied to mortal com- 
bat. 

When the two champions stood opposed to 
each other at the two extremities of the lists the 
public expectation was strained to highest pitch. 

The trumpets had no sooner given the signal 
than the combatants vanished from their posts 
with the speed of lightning, and closed in the cen- 
tre of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. 
The lances burst into shivers, both the knights be- 
ing almost unhorsed. Retiring to the extremity 
of the lists, each received a fresh lance from the 
attendants ; and again, amidst a breathless silence, 
they sprung f rom their stations, and closed in the 
centre of the open space, with the same speed, the 
same dexterity, the same violence, but not the 
same equal fortune, as before. 

The Norman’s spear, striking the centre of 


22 


IVANHOE 


his antagonist’s shield, went to shivers, and the 
Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the 
other hand, the unknown champion had aimed his 
spear’s point at the helmet of his opponent. Fair 
and true he hit the Norman on the visor, and sad- 
dle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a 
cloud of dust. 

“We shall meet again, I trust,” said the defeat- 
ed champion, as he extricated himself from the 
stirrups and fallen steed. 

“If we do not,” said the Disinherited Knight, 
“the fault will not be mine. On foot or horseback, 
with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am alike 
ready to encounter thee.” 

Without alighting from his horse, the con- 
queror called for a bowl of wine, and, opening the 
beaver of his helmet, announced that lie quaffed 
it “To all true English hearts, and to the confu- 
sion of foreign tyrants.” 

He then desired a herald to proclaim that he 
was willing to encounter the rest of the challen- 


IVAXHOE 


23 


gers in the order in which they pleased to advance 
against him. 

The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable 
armour, was the first who took the field. But he 
was soon defeated. 

Sir Philip Malvoisin next advanced; and 
against him the stranger was equally successful. 
De Grantmesnil soon after avowed himself van- 
quished; and Ralph de Vipont summed up the 
list of the stranger’s triumphs, being hurled to the 
ground with such force that he was borne sense- 
less from the lists. 

The acclamations of thousands applauded the 
award of the Prince, announcing that day’s hon- 
ours to the Disinherited Knight. 

The marshal of the field now approached the 
victor, praying him to suffer his helmet to be un- 
laced, ere they conducted him to receive the prize 
of the day’s tourney from the hands of Prince 
John. But the Disinherited Knight, with all 
courtesy, declined their request. The Prince him- 


24 


IVANHOE 


self made many inquiries of those in his company 
about the unknown stranger; but none could 
guess who he might be. Someone suggested that 
it might, perhaps, be King Richard himself ; and 
John turned deadly pale as he heard the words, 
for he had been plotting to seize the throne dur- 
ing his brother’s absence. 

The victorious knight received his prize, speak- 
ing not a word in reply to th,e complimentary ex- 
pressions of the Prince, which he only acknowl- 
edged with a low bow. Leaping into the saddle 
of the richly-accoutred steed which had been pre- 
sented to him, he rode up to where the Lady Ro- 
wena was seated, and heedless of the many Nor- 
man beauties who graced the contest with their 
presence, gracefully sinking the point of his 
lance, he deposited the coronet which it supported 
at the feet of the fair Saxon. The trumpets in- 
stantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed 
the Lady Rowena the Queen of Beauty and of 
Love for the ensuing day. 


IVANHOE 


25 


Soon after the vast multitude had retired from 
the deserted field and lights began to glimmer 
through the twilight, announcing the toil of the 
armourers, which was to continue through the 
whole night in order to repair or alter the suits of 
armour to be used again on the morrow. 

The next dawned in unclouded splendor, and 
at ten o’clock the whole plain was crowded with 
horsemen, horsewomen and foot passengers, 
hastening to the tournament ; and shortly after a 
grand flourish of trumpets announced the arrival 
of Prince John and his gorgeous retinue. 

About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon 
with the Lady Rowena. He had been accompa- 
nied on the previous day by another noble Saxon, 
Athelstane, Lord of Coningsburgh, a suitor for 
the hand of Row^ena, and one who considered his 
union with that lady as a matter already fixed 
beyond doubt, by the assent of Cedric and her 
other friends. Rowena herself, however, had 
never given her consent to such an alliance; and 


26 


IVANHOE 


entertained but a poor opinion of her would-be 
lover, whose pretensions for her hand she had re- 
ceived with marked disdain. Her Saxon lover 
was not one of her party at the tourney on the 
second day. He had observed with displeasure 
that Rowena was selected by the victor on the 
preceding day as the object of that honour which 
it became his privilege to confer, and Athelstane, 
confident of his own strength and skill, had him- 
self donned his armour with a determination to 
make his rival feel the weight of his battle-axe. 






CHAPTER TWO. 


The combat on the second day 
of the tournament was on a 
much more extended scale than 
that of the previous one; and 
when the signal for battle was 
given some fifty knights, at the 
same moment, charged wildly at 
each other in the lists. The champions encoun- 
tered each other with the utmost fury, and with 
alternate success; the tide of battle seeming to 
flow now toward the southern, now toward the 
northern extremity of the lists as the one or the 
other party prevailed. The clang of the blows 
and the shouts of the combatants, mixed fearfully 
with the sound of the trumpets, and drowned the 
groans of those who fell, and lay rolling beneath 
the feet of the horses. The splendid armour of 
the knights was now defaced with dust and blood, 

27 



28 


IVANHOE 


and gave way at every stroke of the sword and 
battle-axe; while the gay plumage, shorn from 
the crests, drifted upon the breeze like snowflakes. 

In the thick of the press and turmoil of the 
fight Bois-Guilbert and the Disinherited Knight 
repeatedly endeavoured to single out each other, 
spurred by mutual animosity. Such, however, was 
the crowd and confusion that, during the earlier 
part of the conflict, their efforts to meet were un- 
availing. But when the field became thin, by the 
numbers on either side who had yielded them- 
selves vanquished or had been rendered incapable 
of continuing the strife, the Templar and the un- 
known knight at length encountered, hand to 
hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity, 
joined to rivalry of honour, could inspire. Such 
was the skill of each in parrying and striking that 
the spectators broke forth into a unanimous and 
involuntary shout of delight and admiration. 

But at this moment the party of the Disinher- 
ited Knight had the worst. Front-de-Boeuf and 


IVANHOE 


29 


Athelstane, having defeated those immediately 
opposed to them, were now free to come to the 
aid of their friend the Templar; and, turning 
their horses at the same moment, the two spurred 
against the Disinherited Knight. 

This champion, exposed as he was to the furi- 
ous assaults of three opponents, each of whom 
was almost a match for him single-handed, must 
now have soon been overpowered, when an unex- 
pected incident changed the fortunes of the day. 

Amongst the ranks of the Disinherited Knight 
was a champion in black armour, mounted on a 
black horse, whose shield bore no device of any 
kind. He had engaged with some few combat- 
ants, and had easily defeated them during the 
earlier stages of the contest, but seemed to take 
no further interest in the event of the fight, acting 
the part rather of a spectator than of a party in 
the tournament. 

The moment, however, he saw his leader so hard 
bested he seemed to throw aside his apathy, and 



“Come down, rash girl ! I swear by earth, and sea, and sky, I will 

offer thee no offence.” — Page 50. 



IVANHOE 


31 


setting spurs to his horse he came to his assistance 
like a thunderbolt, exclaiming, in a voice like a 
trumpet-call, “Disinherited to the rescue!’" 

Under the fury of his first stroke, Front-de- 
Boeuf , horse and all, rolled stunned to the ground. 
He then turned his steed upon Athelstane, and, 
wrenching from the hand of the bulky Saxon the 
battle-axe which he wielded, bestowed him such 
a blow upon the crest, that the Lord of Conings- 
burgh also lay senseless on the field. Having 
achieved this double feat, he returned calmly to 
the extremity of the lists, leaving his leader to 
cope as best he could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert. 
This was no longer matter of so much difficulty 
as formerly. The Templar’s horse had bled much, 
and gave way under the shock of the Disinherited 
Knight’s charge. As Bois-Guilbert rolled on the 
field, his antagonist sprung from horseback, and 
was in the act of commanding his adversary to 
yield or die, when Prince John gave the signal 
that the conflict was at an end. 


32 


IVANHOE 


It being now the duty of the Prince to name 
the knight who had done best, he determined, al- 
though contrary to the advice of those about him, 
that the honour of the day remained with the 
Black Knight. 

To the surprise of all present, however, the 
knight thus preferred was nowhere to be found. 
He had left the lists immediately when the con- 
flict ceased, and had been observed by some spec- 
tators to move slowly down one of the forest 
glades. After he had been summoned twice by 
sound of trumpet, it became necessary to name 
another; and the Disinherited Knight was for the 
second time named champion of the day. 

As the victor was led towards the throne of the 
Lady Rowena, it was observed that he tottered. 
Rowena was about to place the chaplet which she 
held in her hand upon the helmet of the champion 
who kneeled before her, when the marshals ex- 
claimed, “It must not be thus, his head must be 
bare;” and at once removed his helmet. The fea- 


IVANHOE 


33 


tures which were exposed were those of a young 
man of twenty-five; but his countenance was as 
pale as death, and marked in one or two places 
with streaks of blood. 

Rowena had no sooner beheld him than she ut- 
tered a faint shriek; but at once summoning up 
all her energies, she placed upon the drooping 
head of the victor the splendid chaplet which was 
the destined reward of the day. 

The knight bent low, and kissed the hand of 
the lovely Sovereign by whom his valour had been 
rewarded; and then, sinking yet farther forward, 
lay prostrate at her feet. 

There was a general consternation. Cedric, 
who had been struck mute by the sudden appear- 
ance of his banished son, now rushed forward, as 
if to separate him from Rowena. But this had 
been already accomplished by the marshals of the 
field, who, guessing the cause of Ivanhoe’s swoon, 
had hastened to undo his armour, and found that 


34 


IVANHOE 


the head of a lance had penetrated his breast- 
plate and inflicted a wound in his side. 

The name of Ivanhoe was no sooner pro- 
nounced than it flew from mouth to mouth 
throughout the vast assembly. It was not long 
ere it reached the circle of the Prince, whose brow 
darkened as he heard the news. He knew that 
Ivanhoe had been a close attendant on his brother 
King Richard in the Holy Land; and as such he 
looked upon him as his own enemy. He was 
about to give the signal for retiring from the 
lists, when a small billet was put into his hand. He 
broke the seal with apparent agitation, and read 
the words, “Take heed to yourself, for the devil 
is unchained.” 

He turned as pale as death ; and taking two of 
his courtiers aside, he put the billet into their 
hands. “It means,” he said in a faltering voice, 
“that my brother Richard has obtained his free- 
dom.” 

“It is time, then,” said Fitzurse, his confiden- 


IVANHOE 


35 


tial attendant, “to draw our party to a head, and 
prepare our forces to meet him.” 

In sullen ill-humour the Prince left the place 
of tournament to hold high festival at the Castle 
of Ashby ; but it was more than his courtiers could 
do to rouse him from the overpowering gloom 
which seemed to agitate his mind throughout the 
evening. On the next day it was settled that the 
Prince and all those who were ready to support 
him should attend a meeting at York for the pur- 
pose of making general arrangements for plac- 
ing the crown upon the head of the usurper, and 
ousting King Richard from his sovereign rights. 

Meanwhile, Cedric the Saxon, when he saw his 
son drop down senseless in the lists at Ashby, had 
given orders, half in pity, half in anger, to his 
attendants to convey Ivanhoe to a place where his 
wound might be dressed as soon as the crowd had 
dispersed. The attendants were, however, antici- 
pated in this good office. The crowd dispersed, 
indeed, but the knight was nowhere to be seen. 


36 


IVANHOE 


The only information which could be collected 
from the bystanders was, that he had been raised 
with care by certain well-attired grooms, and 
placed in a litter belonging to a lady among the 
spectators, in which he had immediately been 
transported out of the press. 

^Cedric and his friends, having seen the last of 
the tournament and the festivities which followed 
it, now set out on their return to Rotherwood. 
Their way lay through a thickly-wooded country, 
which was at the time held to be dangerous to trav- 
ellers from the number of outlaws whom oppres- 
sion and poverty had driven to despair, and who 
occupied the forests in large bands. From these 
rovers, however, Cedric and Athelstane accounted 
themselves secure, as they had in attendance ten 
servants. They knew, besides, that the outlaws 
were chiefly peasants and yeomen of Saxon 
descent, and were generally supposed to respect 
the persons and property of their countrymen. 

As the travellers journeyed on their way, they 


IVANHOE 


37 


were alarmed by repeated cries for assistance; 
and when they rode up to the place from whence 
they came, they were surprised to find a horse-lit- 
ter placed upon the ground, beside which sat a 
young woman, richly dressed in the Jewish fash- 
ion, while an old man, whose yellow cap pro- 
claimed him to belong to the same nation, walked 
up and down, wringing his hands, as if effected 
by some strange disaster. 

It was some time before Isaac of York, for it 
was he, could explain the nature of his trouble. 
When at length he began to come to himself out 
of his agony of terror, he said that he had hired a 
bodyguard of six men at Ashby, together with 
mules for carrying the litter of a sick friend; but 
that they all had fled away from him, having 
heard that there was a strong band of outlaws 
lying in wait in the woods before them. When he 
implored permission to continue his journey un- 
der the protection of Cedric and his party, Athel- 
stane was strongly opposed to allowing the “dog 


38 


IVANHOE 


of a Jew,” as he called him, to travel in their com- 
pany. The Lady Rowena, however, had at the 
same time been approached by the old man’s 
daughter, who, kissing the hem of her garment, 
implored her to have compassion on them. “It is 
not for myself that I pray this favour,” said Re- 
becca ; “nor is it even for that poor old man ; but it 
is in the name of one dear to many, and dear even 
to you, that I beseech you to let this sick person 
be transported with care and tenderness under 
your protection.” 

So noble and solemn was the air with which 
Rebecca made this appeal, that on the intercession 
of Rowena Cedric readily consented to allow the 
Jew and his daughter, together with their sick 
friend, to attach themselves to his party. 

Twilight was already coming on as the com- 
pany proceeded on their journey. The path upon 
which the party travelled was now so narrow as 
not to admit above two riders abreast. They ac- 
cordingly quickened their pace, in order to get as 


IVANHQE 


39 


rapidly as possible out of the dangerous neigh- 
bourhood which they were traversing. They had 
just crossed a brook, whose banks were broken, 
swampy, and overgrown with dwarf willows, 
when they were assailed in front, flank and rear 
by a large body of men in the dress of outlaws, 
and with an impetuosity to which, in their con- 
fused and ill-prepared condition, it was impossi- 
ble to offer effectual resistance. Both the Saxon 
chiefs were made prisoners at the same moment, 
while the attendants, embarrassed with baggage, 
surprised and terrified at the fate of their masters, 
fell an easy prey to the assailants; and the Lady 
Rowena, the Jew and his daughter experienced 
the same misfortune. Wamba, the jester, alone 
escaped, showing upon the occasion much more 
courage than those who pretended to greater 
sense. As he wandered through the forest, a dog, 
wLich he recognised, jumped up and fawned 
upon him, and Gurth, the swineherd, shortly 
after made his appearance. He was horrified to 


40 


IVANHOE 


hear from his fellow-servant of the misfortune 
which had befallen their master and his party; 
and the two were about to hasten away for the 
purpose of procuring aid, when a third person 
suddenly appeared, and commanded them both to 
halt. Notwithstanding the twilight, and although 
his dress and arms showed him to be an outlaw, 
Wamba recognised him to be Locksley, the yeo- 
man, a man who had carried off the prize for 
archery at the tournament a day or two before. 

“What is the meaning of all this,” he said ; “or 
who is it that rifle and ransom and make prisoners 
in these forests?” 

The yeoman then left, bidding Gurth and 
Wamba, on the peril of their lives, not to stir until 
he returned. He was not long away, and on re- 
turning said that he had found out who the attack- 
ing party were and whither they were bound. 

“Cedric the Saxon,” he said, “the friend of the 
rights of Englishmen, shall not want English 


IVANHOE 


41 


hands to help him in this extremity. Come, then, 
with me, until I gather more aid.” 

So saying, he walked through the wood at a 
great pace, followed by the jester and the swine- 
herd. 

It was after three hours’ good walking that the 
servants of Cedric, with their mysterious guide, 
arrived at a small opening in the forest. Beneath 
an enormous oak-tree several yeomen lay 
stretched on the ground, while another, as senti- 
nel, walked to and fro in the moonlight shade. 
Locksley, on being recognised, was welcomed 
with every token of respect and attachment; and 
he at once gave orders to collect what force they 
could. 

“A set of gallants,” he said, “who have been 
masquerading in such guise as our own, are carry- 
ing a band of prisoners to Torquilstone, the castle 
of Front-de-Boeuf. Our honour is concerned to 
punish them, and we will find means to do so.” 

In the meantime Cedric and the other prisoners 


42 


IVANHOE 


had been hurried along by Bois-Guilbert and De 
Bracy, and safely lodged in the strong and 
ancient castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf. Once 
within the castle, the prisoners were separated. 
Cedric and Athelstane were confined in one apart- 
ment, the Lady Rowena in another, while the 
poor Jew was hastily thrust into a dungeon-vault, 
the floor of which was deep beneath the level of 
the ground, and his daughter Rebecca was locked 
into a cell in a distant and sequestered turret. 

The dungeon occupied by Isaac of York was 
dark and damp. Chains and shackles, which had 
been the portion of former captives, hung rusted 
on the gloomy ’syalls, and in the rings of one of 
those sets of fetters there remained the moulder- 
ing bones of some unhappy prisoner who had been 
left to perish there in other days. At one end of 
this ghastly apartment was a large fire-grate, over 
the top of which were stretched some transverse 
bars of iron, half devoured with rust. 

For nearly three hours the wretched Jew re- 


IVANHOE 


43 


mained sitting in a corner of his dungeon, when 
steps were heard on the stair by which it was ap- 
proached. The bolts were withdrawn, the hinges 
creaked as the wicket opened, and Reginald 
Front-de-Boeuf, followed by two Saracen slaves 
of the Templar, entered the prison. 

“Most cursed dog of an accursed race!” he said 
to Isaac, “see’st thou these scales? In these shalt 
thou weigh me out a thousand silver pounds.” 

“Holy Abraham!” returned the Jew, “heard 
man ever such a demand? Not within the walls 
of York, ransack my house and that of all my 
tribe, wilt thou find the tithe of that huge sum of 
silver.” 

“Prepare then,” said the Norman, “for a long 
and lingering death.” 

And he ordered the slave to make ready the fire. 

“See’st thou, Isaac,” he said, “the range of 
bars above that glowing charcoal? On that warm 
couch shalt thou lie, stripped of thy clothes. One 
of these slaves shall maintain the fire beneath thee. 


44 


IVANHOE 


while another shall anoint thy wretched limbs 
with oil, lest the roast should burn. Now, choose 
between such a scorching bed and the payment of 
a thousand pounds of silver; for, by the head of 
my father, thou hast no other option.” 

“So may Abraham, Jacob, and all the fathers 
of our people assist me,” said Isaac; “I cannot 
make the choice, because I have not the means of 
satisfying your exorbitant demand.” 

“Seize him, and strip him, slaves!” said the 
Knight, “and let the fathers of his race assist him 
if they can.” 

The assistants stepped forward, and laying 
hands on the unfortunate man, waited the hard- 
hearted Baron’s further signal. 

The unhappy Jew eyed their savage counte- 
nances and that of Front de-Boeuf , in hope of dis- 
covering some symptoms of relenting; and as 
he looked again at the glowing furnace his resolu- 
tion at length gave way. 

“I will pay!” he said. “That is,” he added, after 


IVANHOE 


45 


a moment’s pause, “I will pay it with the help of 
my brethren. Let my daughter Rebecca go forth 
to York, and she will bring the treasure here.” 

‘Thy daughter!” said Front-de-Boeuf, as if 
surprised. By heavens! Isaac, I would I had 
known of this: I gave the black-browed girl to 
be a handmaiden to Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, to 
do as it might please him wdth her. My word is 
passed to my comrade in arms ; nor would I break 
it for ten Jews and Jewesses to boot.” 

The yell which Isaac raised at this unfeeling 
communication made the vault ring. 

“Robber and villain!” he exclaimed, “I will pay 
thee nothing — not one silver penny will I pay 
thee — unless my daughter is delivered to me in 
safety and honour. Do thy worst. Take my life 
if thou wilt, and say the Jew, amidst his tortures, 
knew how to disappoint the Christian.” 

“Strip him, slaves! and chain him down upon 
the bars,” said Front-de-Boeuf. 

The Saracens, in obedience to this savage order, 


46 


IVANHOE 


had already torn from the feeble and straggling 
old man his upper garment, and were proceeding 
totally to disrobe him, when the sound of a bugle, 
twice winded without the castle, penetrated even 
to the recesses of the dungeon; and immediately 
after, loud voices were heard calling for Sir Regi- 
nald Front-de-Bceuf. Unwilling to be found en- 
gaged in his hellish occupation, the savage Baron 
gave the slaves the signal to restore Isaac’s gar- 
ment, and hastily quitted the dungeon with his 
attendants. 

During the time the unhappy Jew was under- 
going his terrible ordeal in the gloomy dungeon, 
his daughter Rebecca, in her lonely turret, had 
been exposed to attentions no less unpleasant. 

On being left in the secluded cell, she found 
herself in the presence of an old hag, who kept 
murmuring to herself a Saxon rhyme, as if to 
beat time to the spindle at which she was engaged. 
As soon as they were alone the old woman ad- 
dressed the Jewess, telling her that she was once 



As he approached the castle gate, he was at once admitted. — P, 52. 


47 






48 


IVANHOE 


as young and fair as herself, when Front-de- 
Boeuf, the father of the man who now lorded it 
in the castle, attacked the place and slew her 
father and his seven sons, and she became the 
prey and scorn of the conqueror. 

“Is there no help? Are there no means of es- 
cape?” said Rebecca. “Richly, richly would I 
requite thine aid.” 

“Think not of it,” said the hag, “from hence 
there is no escape but through the gates of death ; 
and it is late, late,” she added, shaking her gray 
head, “ere these open to us. Fare thee well, Jew- 
ess ! — thou hast to do with them that have neither 
scruple nor pity.” And so saying she left the 
room, locking the door behind her. 

Before long a step was heard on the stair, and 
the door of the turret-chamber slowly opened, 
and Brian de Bois-Guilbert entered the room. He 
commenced to address the Jewess with flattering 
speeches, saying that he loved her, and that she 
must now be his. But Rebecca rejected his prof- 


IVANHOE 


49 


fered love with scorn, protesting that she would 
proclaim his villainy from one end of Europe to 
the other. “At least,” she said, “those who trem- 
ble not at thy crime will hold thee accursed for 
having so far dishonoured the cross thou wearest 
as to follow a daughter of my people.” 

“Thou art keen-witted, Jewess,” replied the 
Templar, well aware of the truth of what she 
spoke; “but loud must be thy voice of complaint, 
if it is heard beyond the iron walls of this castle. 
One thing only can save thee, Rebecca. Submit 
to thy fate, embrace our religion, and thou shalt 
go forth in such state that many a Norman lady 
shall envy thee thy lot.” 

“Submit to my fate!” said Rebecca, “and, 
sacred Heaven! to what fate? Embrace thy 
religion, and what religion can it be that harbours 
such a villain? Craven knight! forsworn priest! 
I spit at thee and I defy thee. The God of Abra- 
ham’s promise hath opened an escape to His 
daughter, even from this abyss of infamy!” 


50 


IVANHOE 


As she spoke she threw open the latticed win- 
dow, and in an instant after stood on the very 
verge of the parapet outside, with not the slight- 
est screen between her and the tremendous depth 
below. Unprepared for such a desperate effort, 
Bois-Guilbert had time neither to intercept nor to 
stop her. As he offered to advance, she exclaimed, 
“Remain where thou art, proud Templar, or at 
thy choice advance! One foot nearer, and I 
plunge myself from the precipice; my body shall 
be crushed out of the very form of humanity upon 
the stones below ere it become the victim of thy 
brutality!” 

The Templar hesitated, and a resolution which 
would have never yielded to pity or distress gave 
way to his admiration for her fortitude. “Gome 
down,” he said, “rash girl! I swear by earth, and 
sea, and sky, I will offer thee no offence. Many 
a law, many a commandment have I broken- but 
my word never.” 

“Thus far,” said Rebecca, “I will trust thee;” 


IVANHOE 


51 


and she descended from the verge of the battle- 
ment, but remained standing close by one of the 
embrasures. “Here,” she said, “I take my stand. 
If thou shalt attempt to diminish by one step the 
distance now between us, thou shalt see that the 
Jewish maiden will rather trust her soul with God 
than her honour to the Templar.” 

As she spoke, the bugle was heard to sound, an- 
nouncing that the presence of the Knight was re- 
quired in another part of the castle; and as he 
instantly obeyed the summons, Rebecca found 
herself once more alone. 

When the Templar reached the hall of the cas- 
tle, he found De Bracy there already. They were 
soon after joined by Front-de-Boeuf. 

“Let us see the cause of this cursed clamour,” 
said Front-de-Boeuf. “Here is a letter, and if I 
'mistake not, it is in Saxon.” 

The Templar took the paper from his hand and 
read it. It was a demand to surrender the pris- 
oners within one hour, failing which the castle 


52 


IVANHOE 


would be instantly besieged ; and it was signed at 
the end by Wamba and Gurth, by the Black 
Knight and Locksley. 

The answer which was returned from the castle 
to this missive announced that the prisoners 
would not be given up ; but that permission would 
be given to a man of religion to come to receive 
their dying confession, as it had been determined 
to execute them before noon. 

When this reply was brought back to the party 
of the Black Knight, a hurried consultation was 
held as to what they should do. There being no 
churchman amongst them, and no one else seemed 
willing to undertake the risk of trusting himself 
within the castle, Wamba, the jester, was selected 
for the office. He was soon muffied in his religious 
disguise ; and imitating the solemn and stately de- 
portment of a friar, he departed to execute his 
mission. 

As he approached the castle gate, he was at 
once admitted, and shortly after ushered into the 


IVANHOE 


53 


apartment where Cedric and Athelstane were 
confined ; and the three were left alone. It was 
not long before Cedric recognised the voice of his 
jester. The faithful servant at once suggested 
that his master should change garments with him 
and so make his escape. But it required the 
strong pressure of both Wamba and Athelstane 
before Cedric would consent. At length he yield- 
ed, and the exchange of dress was accomplished. 
He left the apartment saying that he would res- 
cue his friends, or return and die along with 
them. 

In a low-arched and dusty passage by which 
Cedric endeavoured to work his way to the hall, 
he was met by Urfried, the old crone of the tower. 

“Come this way, father,” she said to him; “thou 
art a stranger, and canst not leave the castle with- 
out a guide. Come hither, for I would speak with 
thee.” 

So saying, she proceeded to conduct the unwill- 
ing Cedric into a small apartment, the door of 


54 


IVANHOE 


which she heedfully secured. ‘Thou art a Saxon, 
father,” she said to him; “the sounds of my native 
language are sweet to mine ears, though seldom 
heard for many years.” 

She then told him the story of her unhappy and 
degraded life, and how she was once the daugh- 
ter of the noble thane of Torquilstone. 

“Thou the daughter of Torquil Wolf ganger!” 
said Cedric; “thou — thou, the daughter of my 
father’s friend and companion in arms!” 

“Thy father’s friend!” echoed Urfriend; “then 
Cedric, called the Saxon, stands before me. But 
why this religious dress?” 

“It matters not who I am,” said Cedric; “pro- 
ceed, unhappy woman, unhappy Ulrica, I should 
say, for thou canst be none other, with thy tale 
of horror and guilt. Wretched woman!” he ex- 
claimed, as she concluded her miserable history, 
“so thou hast lived, when all believed thee mur- 
dered ; hast hved to merit our hate and execration ; 


IVANHOE 


55 


lived to unite thyself with the vile tyrant who slew 
thy nearest and dearest!” 

“I hated him with all my soul,” replied Ulrica; 
“I also have had my hours of vengeance; I have 
fomented the quarrels of our foes; I have seen 
their blood flow, and heard their dying groans ; I 
have seen my oppressor fall at his own board by 
the hand of his son. Yet here I dwell, till age, 
premature age, has stamped its ghastly features 
on my countenance, scorned and insulted where 
I was once obeyed. Thou art the first I have seen 
for twenty years by whom God was feared or 
man regarded; and dost thou bid me despair?” 

‘T bid thee repent,” said Cedric; ‘‘but I cannot, 
I will not, longer abide with thee.” 

“Stay yet a moment!” said Ulrica. “Revenge 
henceforth shall possess me wholly, and thou 
thyself shalt say that, whatever was the life of 
Ulrica, her death well became the daughter of the 
noble Torquil. Hasten to lead your forces to the 
attack, and when thou shalt see a red flag wave 


56 


IVANHOE 


from the eastern turret, press the Normans hard; 
they will have enough to do within. Begone, I 
pray thee; follow thine own fate, and leave me to 
mine.” 

As she spoke she vanished through a private 
door, and Front-de-Boeuf entered the apartment. 

“Thy penitents, father,” he said, “have made a 
long shrift; but eome, follow me through this 
passage, that I may dismiss thee by the postern.” 

As Cedric was leaving the castle, the Norman 
gave him a note to carry to Philip de JVIalvoisin, 
begging him to send assistance with all the speed 
he could. He promised the friar a large reward 
for doing the errand, and as they parted at the 
postern door he thrust into Cedric’s reluctant 
hand a piece of gold, adding, “Remember, I will 
flay off thy cowl and skin if thou failest in thy 
purpose.” 

When Front-de-Boeuf rejoined his friends and 
found out the trick which had been played upon 
him, and that Cedric had escaped, his rage was 


IVANHOE 


57 


unbounded, and it was only on De Bracy inter- 
ceding for him that he consented to spare the life 
of the poor jester. 

Before long the inmates of the castle had other 
things to occupy them. The enemy was an- 
nounced to be under their very walls; and each 
knight repaired hastily to his post, and at the head 
of the few followers whom they were able to mus- 
ter they awaited with calm determination the 
threatened assault. 

When at length the attack upon the castle was 
commenced all was at onee bustle and clamour 
within its gloomy walls. The heavy step of men- 
at-arms traversed the battlements, or resounded 
on the narrow and winding passages and stairs 
which led to the various bartizans and points of 
defense. The voices of the knights were heard 
animating their followers, or directing means of 
defence; while their commands were often 
drowned in the clashing of armour or the clam- 
ourous shouts of those whom they addressed. The 


58 


IVANHOE 


shrill bugle without was answered by a flourish of 
Norman trumpets from the battlements, while the 
cries of both parties augmented the fearful din. 
Showers of well-directed arrows came pouring 
against each embrasure and opening in the para- 
pets, as well as every window where a defender 
might be suspected to be stationed ; and these were 
answered by a furious discharge of whizzing 
shafts and missiles from the walls. 

And so for some time the fight went on ; many 
combatants falling on either side. But soon the 
conflict became even more desperate when the 
Black Knight, at the head of a body of his fol- 
lowers, led an attack upon the outer barrier of the 
barbican. Down came the piles and palisades be- 
fore their irresistible onslaught; but their head- 
long rush through the broken barriers was met by 
Front-de-Boeuf himself and a number of the de- 
fenders. 

The two leaders came face to face, and fought 
hand to hand on the breach amid the roar of their 


IVANHOE 


59 


followers who watched the progress of the strife. 
Hot and fierce was the combat that ensued be- 
tween them ; but ere many minutes had passed the 
giant form of Front-de-Boeuf tottered like an 
oak under the steel of the woodman, and dropped 
to the ground. His followers rushed forward to 
where he lay, and their united force compelling 
the Black Knight to pause, they dragged their 
wounded leader within the walls. 

An interval of quiet now succeeded, the be- 
siegers remaining in possession of the outer de- 
fences of the castle, and the besieged retiring for 
the time within the walls of the fortress. 

During the confusion which reigned amongst 
the followers of Front-de-Boeuf when the attack 
had commenced, Rebecca had been allowed to 
take the place of the old crone, Ulrica, who was 
in close attendance on the wounded man who had 
been brought into the castle in company with 
Isaac of York and the other captives. The suf- 
ferer was Ivanhoe himself, who had so mysteri- 


60 


IVANHOE 


ously disappeared on the conclusion of the tour- 
nament, when his father, Cedric, had sent his 
servants to attend him to a place of safety. The 
gallant young warrior, who, as he fell fainting to 
the ground, seemed to be abandoned by all the 
world, had been transported from the lists at the 
entreaty of Rebecca, to the house at Ashby then 
occupied by Isaac of York, where his wounds 
were dressed and tended by the Jewish maiden 
herself. So great was her skill and knowledge of 
medicine, that she undertook to restore the in- 
jured knight to health in eight days’ time; but 
she informed him of the necessity they were un- 
der of removing to York, and of her father’s reso- 
lution to transport him thither, and tend him in 
his own house until his wound should be healed. 
It was on their journey to that town that they 
were overtaken on the road by Cedric and his 
party, in whose company they were afterwards 
carried captive to the Castle of Torquilstone. 

But to return to the assault. When Front-de- 


IVANHOE 


61 


Boeuf, deeply wounded, was rescued by his fol- 
lowers from the fury of the Black Knight, he was 
conveyed to his chamber. As he lay upon his 
bed, racked with pain and mental agony, and 
filled with the fear of rapidly approaching death, 
he heard a voice address him. 

“Think on thy sins,” it said, “Reginald Front- 
de-Boeuf ; on rebellion, on rapine, on murder.” 

“Who is there? What art thou?” he exclaimed 
in terror. “Depart, and haunt my couch no more ; 
let me die in peace.” 

“In peace thou shalt not die,” repeated the 
voice; “even in death shalt thou think on the 
groans which this castle has echoed, on the blood 
that is engrained in its floors.” 

“Go, leave me, fiend!” replied the wounded 
Norman. “Leave me and seek the Saxon witch, 
Ulrica, who was my temptress ; let her, as well as 
I, taste the* tortures which anticipate hell.” 

“She already tastes them,” said Ulrica, step- 
ping before the couch of Front-de-Boeuf ; “she 


62 


IVANHOE 


hath long drunken of this cup, and its bitterness 
is now sweetened to see that thou dost partake it.” 

“Detestable fury!” exclaimed the Norman. 
“Ho! Giles, Clement, Eustace, seize this witch, 
and hurl her from the battlements; she has be- 
trayed us to the Saxon.” 

“Call on them again, valiant Baron,” said the 
hag, with a smile of grisly mockery; “but know, 
mighty chief, thou shalt have neither answer nor 
aid. Listen to these horrid sounds,” for the din 
of the recommenced assault and defence now 
rung fearfully loud from the battlements of the 
castle; “in that war-cry is the downfall of thy 
house. And know, too, even now, the doom which 
all thy power and strength is unable to avoid, 
though it is prepared for thee by this feeble hand. 
JNIarkest thou the smouldering and suffocating 
vapour which already eddies in sable folds 
through the chamber? Rememberest thou the 
magazine of fuel that is stored beneath these 
apartments ?” 


IVANHOE 


63 


“Woman!” exclaimed the wounded man with 
fury, “thou hast not set fire to it? By heaven thou 
hast, and the castle is in flames!” 

“They are fast rising, at least,” said Ulrica; 
“and a signal shall soon wave to warn the be- 
siegers to press hard upon those who would ex- 
tinguish them. Farewell, Front-de-Boeuf ; fare- 
well for ever.” 

So saying, she left the apartment; and Front- 
de-Boeuf could hear the crash of the ponderous 
key, as she locked and double-locked the door be- 
hind her. 

Meanwhile, the Black Knight had led his forces 
again to the attack; and so vigorous was their 
assault, that before long the gate of the castle 
alone separated them from those within. At this 
moment the besiegers caught sight of the red flag 
upon the tower which Ulrica had described to 
Cedric ; and, as she had bade them do, the assail- 
ants at once redoubled their efforts to break in the 
postern gate. 


64 


IVANHOE 


The defenders, finding the castle to be on fire, 
now determined to sell their lives as dearly as they 
could ; and, headed by DeBracy, they threw open 
the gate, and were at once involved in a terrific 
conflict with those outside. The Black Knight, 
with portentous strength, forced his way inward 
in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two 
of the foremost instantly fell, and the rest gave 
way, notwithstanding all their leaders’ efforts to 
stop them. The Black Knight was soon engaged 
in desperate combat with the Norman Chief, and 
the vaulted roof of the hall rung with their furi- 
ous blows. At length De Bracy fell. 

“Yield thee, De Bracy,” said the Black Cham- 
pion, stooping over him, and holding against the 
bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which 
the knights dispatched their enemies. “Yield 
thee, rescue or no rescue, or thou art but a dead 
man.” 

“I will not yield,” replied the Norman faintly. 


IVANHOE 


65 


to an unknown conqueror. Tell me thy name, or 
work thy pleasure on me.” 

The Black Knight whispered something into 
the ear of the vanquished. 

‘T yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no res- 
cue,” then answered De Bracy, in a tone of sullen 
submission. 

“Go to the barbican,” said the victor in a tone 
of authority, “and wait there my further orders.” 

“Yet first let me say,” said DeBracy, “what it 
imports thee to know. Wilfred of Ivanhoe is 
wounded and a prisoner, and will perish in the 
burning castle without present help.” 

“Wilfred of Ivanhoe!” exclaimed the Black 
Knight — “prisoner and perish! The life of every 
man in the castle shall answer it if a hair of his 
head be singed. Show me his chamber!” 

When the Black Knight reached the room, 
Ivanhoe was alone. Rebecca, who had remained 
with him until a few minutes before, had just 
been carried off forcibly by Bois-Guilbert. Rais- 


66 


IVANHOE 


ing the wounded man with ease, the Black Knight 
rushed with him to the postern gate, and having 
there delivered his burden to the care of two yeo- 
men, he again entered the castle to assist in the 
rescue of the other prisoners. 

One turret was now in bright flames, which 
flashed out furiously from window and shot-hole. 
But in other parts the besiegers pursued the de- 
fenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, 
and satiated in their blood the vengeance which 
had long animated them against the soldiers of 
the tyrant, Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garri- 
son resisted to the uttermost ; few of them asked 
quarter, none received it. 

As the fire commenced to spread rapidly 
through all parts of the castle, Ulrica appeared 
on one of the turrets. Her long dishevelled gray 
hair flew back from her uncovered head, while the 
delight of gratified vengeance contended in her 
eyes with the fire of insanity. Before long the 
towering flames had surmounted every obstruc- 


IVANHOE 


67 


tion, and rose to the evening skies one huge and 
burning beacon, seen far and wide through the 
adjacent country; tower after tower crashed 
down, with blazing roof and rafter. The van- 
quished, of whom very few remained, scattered 
and escaped into the neighboring wood. The 
maniac figure of Ulrica was for a long time visi- 
ble on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossing her 
arms abroad with wild exultation. At length, 
with a terrific crash, the whole turret gave way, 
and she perished in the flames which had con- 
sumed her tyrant. 

When day dawned the outlaws and their res- 
cued prisoners assembled around the trysting-tree 
in the oak forest, beside the now ruined castle. 
Two only of Front-de-Boeuf’s captives were 
missing: Athelstane and the Jewish maiden, the 
former being reported as amongst the slain, and 
Rebecca having been carried off by Bois-Guilbert 
before her friends could effect her rescue. 

When the outlaws had divided the spoils which 


68 


IVANHOE 


they had taken from the Castle of Torquilstone, 
Cedric prepared to take his departure. He left 
the gallant band of foresters sorrowing deeply 
for his lost friend, the Lord of Coningsburgh ; 
and he and his followers had scarce departed, 
when a procession moved slowly from under the 
greenwood branches in the direction which he had 
taken, in the centre of which was the car in which 
the body of Athelstane was laid. 

When the funeral train had passed out of 
sight, Locksley addressed the Black Knight, and 
asked him if he had any request to make, as his 
reward for the gallantry he had displayed. 

“I accept the offer,” said the knight; “and I 
ask permission to dispose of Sir Maurice de Bracy 
at my own pleasure.” 

“He is already thine,” said Locksley, “and well 
for him!” 

“De Bracy,” said the knight, “thou art free; 
depart. He whose prisoner thou art scorns to 
take mean revenge for what is past. But beware 


IVANHOE 


69 


of the future, lest a worse thing befall thee. 
Maurice de Bracy, I say, beware!” De Bracy 
bowed low and in silence, threw himself upon a 
horse, and galloped off through the wood. 

“Noble knight,” then said Locksley, “I would 
fain beg your acceptance of another gift. Here 
is a bugle, which an English yeoman has once 
worn ; I pray you to keep it as a memorial of your 
gallant bearing. . If ye should chance to be hard 
bested in any forest between Trent and Tees, 
wind three notes upon it, and ye shall find helpers 
and rescue.” 

“Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman,” said the 
knight; “and better help than thine and thy 
rangers would I never seek, were it at my utmost 
need.” 

So saying, he mounted his strong war-horse, 
and rode off through the forest. 

During all this time Isaac of York sat mourn- 
fully apart, grieving for the loss of his dearly- 
loved daughter Rebecca. He was assured that 


70 


IVANHOE 


she was still alive, but that there was no hope of 
rescuing her from the clutches of Bois-Guilbert, 
except by the payment of a ransom of six hun- 
dred crowns. On consenting to pay this amount 
to the Prior of Jorvaulx, who had just then 
joined the party in the wood, the Jew was given a 
letter, written by the Prior himself, directed to 
Bois-Guilbert at the Preceptory of Templestowe, 
whither the maiden had been carried off, com- 
manding that Rebecca should be set at liberty. 
And with this epistle the unhappy old man set 
out to procure his daughter’s liberation. 



CHAPTER THREE. 


Meanwhile there was brave 
feasting in the Castle of York 
to which Prince John had invited 
those nobles, prelates, and lead- 
ers by whose assistance he hoped 
to carry through his ambitious 
projects upon his brother’s 
throne. Deep was the Prince’s disappointment 
when he learnt of the fall of Torquilstone, and 
the defeat of the knights who failed to defend it, 
and on whose support he strongly relied. The 
rumoured intelligence had scarcely reached him, 
when De Bracy was ushered into his presence, his 
armour still bearing the marks of the late fray, 
and covered with clay and dust from crest to spur. 

“The Templar is fled,” said De Bracy, in an- 
swer to the Prince’s eager questions; “Front-de- 

71 



72 


IVANHOE 


Boeuf you will never see more ; and,” he added in 
a low and emphatic tone, “Richard is in England; 
I have seen him and spoken with him.” 

Prince John turned pale, tottered, and caught 
at the back of an oaken bench to support himself. 

On awakening from the stupor into which he 
had been thrown by the unexpected intelligence, 
he determined to endeavour to seize his brother, 
and hold him a prisoner. He appealed to De 
Bracy to assist him in this project, and became at 
once deeply suspicious of the knight’s loyalty 
towards him when he declined to lift hand against 
the man who had spared his own life. 

Driven almost to desperation, and with bitter 
complaints against those who had promised to 
support him, John now treacherously directed 
Waldemar Fitzurse, one of his most intimate 
attendants, to depart at once, with a chosen band 
of followers, for the purpose of overtaking King 
Richard and, if possible, securing him as a pris- 


oner. 


IVANHOE 


73 


In the meantime, Isaac of York, though suffer- 
ing much from the ill-treatment he had received 
at Torquilstone, made his way to the Preceptory 
of Templestowe, for the purpose of negotiating 
his daughter’s redemption. Before reaching his 
destination he was told that Lucas de Beauman- 
oir, the Grand Master of the Order of the Tem- 
plars, was then on visit to the Preceptory. He 
had come, the Jew was informed, for the pur- 
pose of correcting and punishing many of the 
members of the body whose conduct had of late 
been open to severe censure; and he was recog- 
nised besides as the most tyrannical oppressor of 
the Jewish people. 

In spite of this ominous intelligence, Isaac pur- 
sued his way, and on arriving at Templestowe was 
at once shown into the presence of the Grand 
Master himself. With fear and trembling he 
produced the letter of the Prior of Jorvaulx to 
Bois-Guilbert. Beaumanoir tore open the seal 
and perused the letter in haste, with an expression 



“ Go, leave me, fiend ! ” replied the wounded woman. — Page 61 


IVANHOE 


75 


of surprise and horror. He had not until then 
been informed of the presence of the Jewish 
maiden in the abode of the Templars, and great 
was his fury and indignation on learning that she 
was amongst them. He denounced Rebecca as a 
witch, by whose enchantment Bois-Guilbert had 
been led to offend against the rules of the Holy 
Order, and in tones of passion and scorn he re- 
fused to listen to Isaac’s protestations of her 
innocence. 

“Spurn this Jew from the gate,” he said to one 
of his attendants, “and shoot him dead if he 
oppose or turn again. With his daughter we will 
deal as the Christian law and our own high office 
warrant.” 

Poor Isaac was hurried off accordingly, and 
expelled from the Preceptory, all his entreaties,^ 
and even his offers, unheard and disregarded. He 
had hitherto feared for his daughter’s honour; he 
was now to tremble for her life. 

Orders were at once given by the Grand Mas- 


76 


IVANHOE 


ter to prepare the great hall of the Preceptory for 
the trial of Rebecca as a sorceress; and even the 
president of the establishment did not hesitate to 
aid in procuring false evidence against the un- 
fortunate Jewess, for the purpose of ingratiating 
himself with Beaumanoir, from whom he had 
kept secret the presence of Rebecca in the holy 
precincts. 

When the ponderous castle bell had tolled the 
point of noon, the Jewess was led from her se- 
cluded chamber into the great hall in which the 
Grand Master had for the time established his 
court of justice. As she passed through the crowd* 
of squires and yeomen, who already filled the 
lower end of the vast apartment, a scrap of paper 
was thrust into her hand, which she received al- 
most unconsciously, and continued to hold with- 
out examining its contents. The assurance that 
she possessed some friend in this awful assembly 
gave her courage to look around, and to mark into 
whose presence she had been conducted. She 


IVANHOE 


77 


gazed accordingly upon a scene which might well 
have struck terror into a bolder heart than hers. 

On an elevated seat at the upper end of the 
great hall, directly before the accused, sat the 
Grand Master of the Temple, in full and ample 
robes of flowing white, holding in his hand the 
mystic staff, which bore the symbol of the Order. 
At his feet was placed a table, occupied by two 
scribes, whose duty it was to record the proceed- 
ings of the day. Their chairs were black, and 
formed a marked contrast to the warlike appear- 
ance of the knights who attended the solemn 
gathering. The preceptors, of whom there were 
four present, occupied seats behind their superi- 
ors; and behind them stood the esquires of the 
Order, robed in white. 

The whole assembly wore an aspect of the most 
profound gravity — the reflection, as it were, of 
the sombre countenance of the austere and re- 
lentless Grand Master. The lower part of the 
hall was filled with guards and others whom curi- 


78 


IVANHOE 


osity had drawn together to witness the important 
and impressive ceremony. 

The Grand Master himself, in a short speech, 
announced the charge against the Jewess; and, on 
its conclusion, several witnesses were called to 
prove the risks to which Bois-Guilbert exposed 
himself in endeavouring to save Rebecca from the 
blazing castle; while other witnesses testified to 
the apparent madness of the Templar in bringing 
the Jewess to the Preceptory. A poor Saxon 
peasant was next dragged forward to the bar, 
who had been cured of a palsy by the accused. 
Most unwilling was his testimony, and given with 
many tears ; but he admitted that two years since 
he had been unable to stir from his bed until the 
remedies applied by Rebecca’s directions had in 
some degree restored the use of his limbs. With 
a trembling hand he produced from his bosom a 
small box of ointment, bearing some Hebrew 
characters upon the lid, which was, with most of 


IVANHOE 


79 


the audience, a sure proof that the devil had stood 
apothecary. 

Witnesses skilled in medicine were then 
brought forward to prove that they knew nothing 
of the materials of which the unguent was com- 
pounded, and who suggested that it must have 
been manufactured by means both unlawful and 
magical. Other witnesses came forward to prove 
that Rebecca’s cures were accomplished by means 
of mutterings in an unknown tongue, and songs 
of a sweet, strange sound, which made the ears 
of the hearer tingle and his heart throb, adding 
that her garments were of a strange and mystic 
form, and that she had rings impressed with cab- 
alistic devices, all which were, in those ignorant 
and superstitious times, easily credited as proofs 
of guilt. 

On the conclusion of this weighty evidence the 
Grand Master in a solemn tone demanded of Re- 
becca what she had to say against the sentence of 
condemnation which he was about to pronounce. 


80 


IVANHOE 


“To invoke your pity,” said the lovely Jewess, 
with a voice somewhat tremulous with emotion, 
“would, I am aware, be as useless as I should hold 
it mean. To state that to relieve the sick and 
wounded of another religion cannot be displeas- 
ing to God were also unavailing; to plead that 
many things which these men (whom may Heav- 
en pardon!) have spoken against me are impos- 
sible would avail me but little, since you believe 
in their possibility, and still less would it advan- 
tage me to explain that the peculiarities of my 
dress, language, and manners are those of my 
people. I am friendless, defenceless, and the 
prisoner of my accuser there. He is of your own 
faith; his lightest word would weigh down the 
most solemn protestations of the distressed Jew- 
ess, and yet to himself, yes, Brian de Bois-Guil- 
bert, to thyself I appeal, whether these accusa- 
tions are not false?” 

There was a pause ; all eyes turned to the Tem- 
plar. He was silent. 


IVANHOE 


81 


“Speak,” she said, “if thou art a man; if thou 
art a Christian, speak! I conjure thee, by the 
habit which thou dost wear, by the name thou dost 
inherit, by the honour of thy mother, I conjure 
thee to say, are these things true?” 

“Answer her, brother,” said the Grand Mas- 
ter. 

“The scroll, the scroll!” was all that Bois-Guil- 
bert uttered in reply, looking to Rebecca. 

The Jewess instantly remembered the slip of 
paper which she continued to hold in her hand, 
and, looking at it without being observed, she read 
the words, ''Demand a championr 

“Rebecca,” said the Grand INIaster, who be- 
lieved the words of Bois-Guilbert had reference 
to some other writing, “hast thou aught else to 
say?” 

“There is yet once chance of life left to me,” 
said the Jewess, “even by your own fierce laws. 
I deny this charge ; I maintain my innocence. I 
challenge the privilege of trial by combat, and 


82 


IVANHOE 


will appear by my champion. There lies my 
gage.” 

She took her embroidered glove from her hand 
and flung it down before the Grand Master, with 
an air of mingled simplicity and dignity which 
excited universal surprise and admiration. 

A short consultation then took place between 
Beaumanoir and the preceptors, in which it was 
decided that Brian de Bois-Guilbert was the fit- 
test knight to do battle for the Holy Order. To 
him, accordingly, the glove of Rebecca was hand- 
ed; and the Jewess was commanded to find a 
champion by the third day following. It was 
further intimated to her that should she fail to do 
so, or if her champion should be discomforted, she 
should die the death of a sorceress, according to 
doom. 

Being granted permission to communicate with 
her father, she hastily wrote a few lines in He- 
brew to him, imploring him to seek out Wilfred, 
the son of Cedric, and let him know that she was 


IVANHOE 


83 


in sore need of a champion. As it fortuned, the 
messenger who did her errand had not far to go 
before he met Isaac of York. 

The poor old man, on learning his daughter’s 
terrible condition, was quite overcome ; but, 
cheered in some measure by the kindly words of 
a Rabbi who was with him, he determined, weak 
and feverish though he was, to make a last effort 
for the child he loved so dearly. And having 
said farewell the two Jews parted, Isaac to seek 
out Ivanhoe, and the Rabbi to go to York to look 
for other assistance. 

In the twilight of the day of her trial, if it could 
be called a trial, a low knock was heard at the 
door of Rebecca’s prison-chamber; and shortly 
after Brian de Bois-Guilbert entered the apart- 
ment. 

She drew back in terror at the sight of the man 
who had been the cause of all her misfortunes; but 
he bade her not to be afraid. He had come, he 
said, to tell her that he was prepared to refuse to 


84 


IVANHOE 


do battle for the Templars against her, and sacri- 
fice his name and honour as a member of the Holy 
Order, and that he would leave the preceptory, 
appear in three days in disguise, and himself be 
her champion against any knight who should con- 
front him, on one condition: that she should ac- 
cept him as a lover. 

Rebecca listened to his words, and then with 
scorn refused his offer. 

“So be it then, proud damsel,” said Bois-Guil- 
bert; “thou hast thyself decided thine own fate. 
I shall appear in the lists against thy champion, 
and know that there lives not the knight who may 
cope with me alone save Richard Coeur-de-Lion 
and his minion Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe, as thou well 
knowest, is unable to bear his corslet, and Richard 
is in a foreign prison. Farewell.” And so saying 
the Templar left the apartment. 

Pending this time, so full of terror and anxiety 
for poor Rebecca, the Back Knight, having left 
the company of the generous outlaw, held his way 


IVANHOE 


85 


to a neighbouring religious house to which the 
wounded Ivanhoe had been removed when the 
castle was taken. Here he remained for the night; 
and the following day he set out for Conings- 
burgh to attend the obsequies of the deceased 
Athelstane, Wamba alone being his companion. 

They had ridden together for some distance 
when the quick eye of the jester caught sight of 
some men in armour concealed in a brake not far 
from where they were. 

Almost immediately after three arrows were 
discharged from the suspected spot, one of which 
glanced off the visor of the Black Knight. 

“Let us close with them,” said the knight, and 
he rode straight to the thicket. He was met by 
six or seven men-at-arms, who ran against him 
with their lances at full career. Three of the 
weapons struck against him, and splintered with 
as little effect as if they had been driven against 
a tower of steel. The attacking party then drew 
their swords and assailed him on every side. But 


86 


IVANHOE 


many as they were to one they had met their 
match; and a man reeled and fell at every blow 
delivered by the Black Knight. His opponents, 
desperate as they were, now bore back from his 
deadly blows, and it seemed as if the terror of his 
single strength was about to gain the battle 
against such odds when a knight in blue armour, 
who had kept himself behind the other assailants, 
spurred forward with his lance, and taking aim, 
not at the rider but at the steed, wounded the 
noble animal mortally. 

“That was a felon stroke!” exclaimed the Black 
Knight, as the horse fell to the earth, bearing his 
rider along with him. 

At this moment Wamba winded the outlaw’s 
bugle, which he had been given to carry. The 
sudden sound made the murderers bear back once 
more, and Wamba did not hesitate to rush in and 
assist his knight to rise. 

“Shame on ye, false cowards!” exclaimed he in 


IVANHOE 


87 


the blue harness; “do ye fly from the empty blast 
of a horn blown by a jester?” 

Animated by his words, they attacked the Black 
Knight anew, whose best refuge was now to place 
his back against an oak, and defend himself with 
his sword. The felon knight, who had taken 
another spear, watching the moment when his 
formidable antagonist was most closely pressed, 
galloped against him in hopes to nail him with his 
lance against the tree; but Wamba, springing 
forward in good time, checked the fatal career of 
the Blue Knight, by hamstringing his horse with 
a stroke of his sword; and horse and man went 
heavily to the ground. Almost immediately after, 
a band of yeomen, headed by Locksley, broke 
forth from the glade, who, joining manfully in 
the fray, soon disposed of the ruffians, all of 
whom lay on the spot dead, or mortally wounded. 

The visor of the Blue Knight, who still lay en- 
tangled under his wounded steed, was now 


88 


IVANHOE 


opened and the features of Waldemar Fitzurse 
were disclosed. 

“Stand back, my masters,” said the Black 
Knight to those about him; “I would speak with 
this man alone. And now, Waldemar Fitzurse, 
say me the truth: confess who set thee on this 
traitorous deed?” 

“Richard,” answered the fallen knight, “it was 
thy father’s son.” 

Richard’s eyes sparkled with indignation, but 
his better nature overcame it. “Take thy life un- 
asked,” he said; “but, on this condition, that in 
three days thou shalt leave England, and that 
thou wilt never mention the name of John of 
Anjou as connected with thy felony.” Then, 
turning to where the yeomen stood apart, he said, 
“Let this knight have a steed, Locksley, and let 
him depart unharmed. Thou bearest an English 
heart, and must needs obey me. I am Richard of 
England!” 

At these words the yeomen kneeled down be- 


IVANHOE 


89 


fore him, tendering their allegiance, while they 
implored pardon for their offences. 

“Rise, my friends,” said Richard. “Your mis- 
demeanours have been atoned by the loyal services 
3^ou rendered my distressed subjects before the 
walls of Torquilstone, and the rescue you have 
this day afforded your sovereign. Arise, my 
liegemen, and be good subjects in future. And 
thou, brave Locksley — ” 

“Call me no longer Locksley, my liege,” said 
the outlaw; “I am Robin Hood of Sherv^ood 
Forest.” 

Before many more minutes had gone a sylvan 
repast was hastily prepared beneath a huge oak- 
tree for the King of England. Amongst those 
who partook of the forest hospitality of the out- 
laws were Ivanhoe and Gurth, who just then 
came on the scene, the former now all but cured 
of his wound, thanks to the healing balsam with 
which he had been provided by Rebecca the 
Jewess. 


90 


IVANHOE 


When the feast was concluded, the King, at- 
tended by Ivanhoe, Wamba, and Gurth, proceed- 
ed on his way to Coningsburgh. As the travellers 
approached the ancient Saxon fortress, they 
could see the huge black banner floating from the 
top of the tower, which announced that the obse- 
quies of the late owner were still in the act of be- 
ing solemnized. All around the castle was a scene 
of busy commotion, the whole countryside being 
gathered from far and near to partake of the 
funeral banquet. Cooks and mendicants, stroll- 
ing soldiers from Palestine, pedlars, mechanics, 
^vandering palmers, hedge-priests, Saxon min- 
strels and Welsh bards, together with jesters and 
jugglers, formed a motley and hungry gather- 
ing, such as could only be seen on the occasion 
of which now brought them together ; and 
through this riotous crowd Richard and his fol- 
lowers with dffiiculty made their way. 

As they entered the apartment where Cedric 
sat, Ivanhoe muffled his face in his mantle. Upon 


IVANHOE 


91 


the entrance of Richard, the Saxon arose gravely 
to bid him welcome. Having greeted him and his 
friends with the mournful ceremony suited to the 
occasion, he conducted the party to the small and 
rude chapel which formed part of the castle, 
where, before an altar, was placed a bier, round 
which kneeled three priests, who told their beads 
and muttered their prayers with the greatest signs 
of external devotion. On leaving the chamber of 
death, Cedric led his knightly guest to another 
apartment, where he was about to leave him, when 
the Black Knight took his hand. 

‘‘I crave to remind you, noble Thane,” he said, 
“that when we last parted you promised to grant 
me a boon.” 

“It is granted ere named, noble knight,” said 
Cedric, still unaware that he was speaking to the 
king. 

“Know me, then, from henceforth,” said the 
Black Knight, “as Richard Plantagenet; the 
boon I crave is that thou wilt forgive and receive 


92 


IVANHOE 


to thy paternal affection this good knight here, 
Wilfred of Ivanhoe.” 

“And this is Wilfred!” said Cedric, pointing to 
his son. 

“My father! my father!” said Ivanhoe, pros- 
trating himself at 'Cedric’s feet, “grant me thy 
forgiveness!” 

“Thou hast it, my son,” said Cedric, raising him 
up. But he had scarce uttered the words when 
the door flew open, and Athelstane, arrayed in 
the garments of the grave, stood before them, 
pale, haggard, and like something arisen from 
the dead. 

The effect of this apparition on the persons 
present was utterly appalling. Cedric started 
back in amazement. Ivanhoe crossed himself, re- 
peating prayers in Saxon, Latin, and Norman- 
French, while Richard alternately said "'Bene- 
dicite/" and swore, ''Mort de ma vie'' 

The mystery was, however, soon explained, 
and by Athelstane himself. The blow, he told 


IVANHOE 


93 


them, by which it was supposed he had been slain, 
had only stunned him. When he recovered his 
senses, he found himself in an open coffin in the 
church of St. Edmund’s, his arms swathed down, 
his feet tied fast, and darkness all about him. He 
sneezed and groaned, and would have arisen, 
when the sacristan and Abbot, full of terror, came 
running in, and would have persuaded him he was 
in purgatory, had he not known the voice of one 
of them. 

They then gave him a sleeping-draught, and as 
he woke again he could hear them droning out 
death psalms for the repose of his soul. After 
some time, he found himself alone with the sacris- 
tan, and being made aware that his custodian had 
been indulging too freely in wine, he had leaped 
out of the coffin, rushed through the door of the 
vault, which had luckily been left unlocked, 
fought his way through two venerable brethren 
who were regaling themselves in an outer apart- 
ment, and, having mounted a palfrey which he 


94 


IVANHOE 


found in the stable, galloped to his own castle 
with all the speed he could — man and mother’s 
son flying before him as from a spectre all along 
the way. 

Having concluded his story, still breathless 
after his mad ride, he denounced the treacherous 
Abbot and all his monks, who were determined to 
persuade everyone that he was still dead, in order 
to secure the vast legacy which they knew was 
coming to them ; and swore that he would not rest 
content until the Abbot’s fat carcass, in his cope 
and stole, was hanging from the top of the Castle 
of Coningsburgh. 

He had caught sight of Ivanhoe as he first 
came into the apartment, but had lost sight of 
him owing to the crowd of eager listeners by 
which the room was now thronged. Filled with 
a spirit of generosity to his rival, and thirsting 
only for vengeance against the plotting monks, 
he took the hand of Row^ena, who stood beside 
him, and was about to place it in that of Ivanhoe, 


IVANHOE 


95 


when it was found that Wilfred had vanished 
from the room. 

It was at length discovered that a Jew had been 
to seek the knight, and that, after a very brief 
conference, he had called for Gurth and his 
armour, and had left the castle. King Richard 
was also gone, and no one knew whither. 

Meanwhile, the tiltyard of the Preceptory of 
Templestowe was prepared for the combat which 
should decide the life or death of Rebecca. As 
the hour approached which was to determine the 
fate of the unfortunate Jewess, a vast multitude 
had gathered to witness a spectacle even in that 
age but seldom seen. 

At one end of the lists arose the throne of the 
Grand Master, surrounded with seats for the pre- 
ceptors and the knights of the Order, over which 
floated the, sacred standard of the Templars. 

At the opposite end was a pile of faggots, so 
arranged around a stake, deeply fixed in the 
ground, as to leave a space for the victim whom 


96 


IVANHOE 


they were destined to consume. Close by stood 
four black slaves, whose colour and African fea- 
tures, then so little known in England, appalled 
the multitude, who gazed on them as demons. 

Soon the slow and sullen sounds of the great 
church bell chilled with awe the hearts of the as- 
sembled crowd; and before long the Grand Mas- 
ter, preceded by a stately retinue, approached his 
throne. Behind him came Brian de Bois-Guil- 
bert, armed cap-a-pie in bright armour, but look- 
ing ghastly pale. A long procession followed, 
and next a guard of warders on foot, in sable liv- 
ery, amidst whom might be seen the pale form of 
the accused maiden. All her ornaments had been 
removed, and a coarse white dress, of the simplest 
form, had been substituted for her Oriental gar- 
ments ; yet there was such an exquisite mixture of 
courage and resignation in her look that even in 
this garb, and with no other ornament than her 
long black tresses, each eye wept that looked upon 
her. 


IVANHOE 


97 


The unfortunate Jewess was conducted to a 
black chair placed near the pile ; and soon after a 
loud and long flourish of trumpets announced 
that the court was seated for judgment. 

There was a dead pause for many minutes. 

“Xo champion appears for the appellant,” said 
the Grand JNIaster. 

Another pause succeeded ; and then the knights 
whispered to each other that it was time to declare 
the pledge of Rebecca forfeited. At this instant 
a knight, urging his horse to speed, appeared on 
the plain advancing towards the lists. A hundred 
voices exclaimed, “A champion! a champion!” 
and amidst a ringing cheer the knight rode into 
the tiltyard, although his horse appeared to reel 
from fatigue. 

To the summons of the herald, who demanded 
his rank, his name, and purpose, the stranger an- 
swered, raising his helmet as he spoke, ‘T am Wil- 
fred of Ivanhoe.” 


98 


IVANHOE 


“I will not fight with thee at present,” said 
Bois-Guilbert. “Get thy wounds healed.” 

“Ha! proud Templar,” said Ivanhoe, “hast 
thou forgotten that twice didst thou fall before 
this lance? I will proclaim thee a coward in every 
court in Europe unless thou do battle without 
farther delay.” 

“Dog of a Saxon!” said the Templar, “take 
thy lance, and prepare for the death thou hast 
drawn upon thee!” 

At once each champion took his place, the 
trumpets sounded, and the knights charged each 
other in full career. The wearied horse of Ivan- 
hoe, and its no less exhausted rider, went down, 
as all had expected, before the well-aimed lance 
and vigorous steed of the Templar. But although 
the spear of Ivanhoe did but touch the shield of 
Bois-Guilbert, that champion, to the astonish- 
ment of all who beheld it, reeled in his saddle, lost 
his stirrups, and fell in the lists. 

Ivanhoe was soon on foot, hastening to mend 


IVANHOE 


99 


his fortune with his sword; but his antagonist 
arose not.' Wilfred, placing his foot on his breast, 
and the sword’s point to his throat, commanded 
him to yield him, or die on the spot. Bois-Guil- 
bert returned no answer. 

“Slay him not. Sir Knight,” cried the Grand 
blaster. “We allow him vanquished.” 

He descended into the lists, and commanded 
them to unhelm the conquered champion. His 
eyes were closed; the dark red flush was still on 
his brow. As they looked on him in astonishment 
the eyes opened, but they w^ere flxed and glazed. 
The flush passed from his brow, and gave way to 
the pallid hue of death. Unscathed by the lance 
of his enemy, he had died a victim to the violence 
of his own contending passions. 

“This is indeed the judgment of God,” said the 
Grand Master, looking upwards; “thy will be 
done!” 

Turning then to Wilfred of Ivanhoe, he said, 
“I pronounce the maiden free and guiltless. The 

Lora 


100 


IVANHOE 


arms and the body of the deceased knight are at 
the will of the victor.” 

His further speech was interrupted by a clat- 
tering of horses’ feet, and the Black Knight, fol- 
lowed by a numerous band of men-at-arms, gal- 
loped into the lists. 

At a glance he saw how matters stood. “Bo- 
hun,” he said, addressing one of his attendant 
knights, do thine office.” 

The officer stepped forward and, laying his 
hand on the shoulder of Albert de INIalvoisin, said, 
‘T arrest thee of high treason.” 

“Who dares arrest a Knight of the Temple in 
my presence?” said the Grand Master; “and by 
whose authority is this bold outrage offered?” 

“By my authority,” said the King, raising his 
visor, “and by the order of Richard Plantagenet 
who stands before you.” 

While he spoke the royal standard of England 
was seen to float over the towers of the preceptory 
instead of the Temple banner; and before long 


IVANHOE 


101 


the followers of the King were in complete pos- 
session of the entire castle. 

IMean while Rebecca, giddy and almost sense- 
less at the rapid change of circumstances, was 
locked in the arms of her aged father; and shortly 
after the two retreated hurriedly from the lists. 

Not many days passed before the nuptials of 
Wilfred and the fair Rowena were celebrated in 
the noble minster of York, attended by the King 
in person. 

On the second morning after this happy bridal 
Rebecca was shown into the apartment of the 
Lady of Ivanhoe. She had come, she said, to pay 
the debt of gratitude which she owed to Wilfred, 
and to ask his wife to transmit to him her grateful 
f arewell. She prayed that God might bless their 
union, and, as she rose to leave, she handed Ro- 
wena a casket filled with most precious jewels. 
“Accept them, lady,” she said; “to me they are 
valueless; I will never wear jewels more. ]My 
father and I, we are going to a far country where 


102 


IVANHOE 


at least we shall dwell in liberty. He to whom I 
dedicate my future life will be my Comforter if I 
do His will. Say this to thy lord should he chance 
to inquire after the fate of her whose life he 
saved.” She then hastened to bid Rowena adieu, 
and glided from the apartment. 

Wilfred lived long and happily with his bride, 
for they were attached to each other by the bonds 
of early affection, and they loved each other the 
more from the recollection of the obstacles which 
had so long impeded their union. 



Young Folks 
Colonial Library 

This series of books will consist of biographical 
stories of the minor characters in the War for 
Independence. They are written in a style ap- 
pealing especially to young people ; but the adult 
will find them authentic as well as interesting 
reading. The stories have been carefully pre- 
pared and deal only in facts, with enough roman- 
tic coloring to give them freshness and interest. 
Our young folks will find them a material aid to 
the study of our country's history. The books 
are fully illustrated by artists who are well and 
favorably known. The pictures are in tints with 
frontispieces done in lithography. Price 40 cts. 

The following volumes by Percy K. Fitzhugh : 

The Story of John Paul Jones. 

Ethan Allen, the Green Mountain Boy. 

General Francis Marion, the Bayard of 
the South. 

General Richard Montgomery. 

General Johann De Kalb. 

“ “ “ Anthony Wayne (Mad Anthony). 


890 Broadway, N. Y. 




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